A Trap for the Potentate

by Michael Atamanov

  I called the nearest sentry and demanded an explanation. But I could understand very little in his disjointed and faltering speech: something about darkness, dread and burning red eyes. I could only make out that the enemy had been seen on the nearest hill two hundred steps from the camp, but then went down in a hollow and disappeared from sight. Perhaps he had retreated, although the sentry couldn't say for certain. Fortunately, the shaman finished his dance right on time and ran up to me:

  “Captain Amra, I sense an evil presence! I do not know who it is this time, but the spirits are telling me this is a very strong enemy, who is nourished by our fears. So, I called the sprits to help and give our warriors the gift of bravery.”

  “Great, Ghuu! Excellent thinking!” I tried to speak confidently and loudly, so as many orcs as possible would hear me. “Our enemy has never before come up against truly fearsome orcs, so he was counting on scaring us and making us run away in fear! What a naive fool! If our enemy really is nourished by fears, he will have to go hungry! Isn't that right, my brave warriors? I want you all to shout out together what body part orcs show their enemies to suggest they either surrender or retreat!”

  In reply I heard a coordinated and confident roar from a hundred throats, then a loud chuckling, which rolled over the surrounding area for many kilometers. I smiled in satisfaction from ear to ear. If I were a creature nourished by fear, I truly would not want to come up against these inspired orcs.

  Foreman skill increased to level 44!

  Would you like to take the secondary skill Warchief (Ch P)?

  The game system was suggesting I take that skill for the second time now. This time, I didn't dismiss it right away, and called up the in-game guide:

  Warchief. Allows a commander to inspire his warriors, giving them random positive bonuses. As this skill grows, the chance of bonus increases, and the effects grow stronger. At higher levels, this specialization allows multiple bonuses (including multiple identical bonuses), increased bonus duration up to permanent, and the use of spirit- or mind-magic spells on one’s army. ATTENTION!!! The Warchief skill will not work and does not level if the subjects have a low or negative opinion of their commander.

  I couldn't understand from the skill description if the effect would work on the whole army or just individual warriors in it. I also couldn’t tell if there were limits on the size of the army a commander could control, or if the bonuses would stack (for example, increased morale and loyalty) with the effects given by the Foreman skill. Nevertheless, it seemed very, very useful to me, as I'd decided to continue leading the army of orcs.

  You have taken Warchief as a secondary skill

  Skill level: 1

  Secondary skills chosen (6 of 7)

  “Captain Amra, I can sense that the enemy hasn't left and is still circling our camp!” Shaman Ghuu pointed with his staff, vaguely indicating the enemy's location.

  What could I say? This was a perfect time to try out the new skill. I ordered the shaman to roll out some barrels of rum and give one cup to every warrior as we had previously done on the pirate bireme before a dangerous encounter.

  Foreman skill increased to level 45!

  Warchief skill increased to level 2!

  Warchief skill increased to level 3!

  In reply, the crew roared out in elation. The orcs were waving their yataghans in the air and banging their weapons on their shields, expressing their complete approval of the captain's decision. Over the heads of some of the warriors, I saw bright shining symbols and read the effects with curiosity. Increased Morale, Increased Strength, Increased Speed, Immunity to Fear, Hunger Sated, Night Vision, Increased Luck. The effects were random and of all different kinds. What could I say? I now knew how the Warchief skill worked.

  And then, it was as if a gust of evil cold wind came over the camp, wiping the happy smiles off their tusked faces and causing a distressed gnashing of teeth.

  Darkness Magic resistance check failed

  Damage taken: 0 HP (spell Wave of Horror, immunity to fear)

  The beast had tested its fell magic on us once again! I looked at the rows of orcs with alarm. They had stopped baring their teeth in pride and were now feverishly clutching their weapons. The orcs looked around unconfidently, as if searching for help from their neighbors. Many looked to me as their commander. However, I didn't see any acting cowardly or abandoning their positions. Just then, Johnny shouted out:

  “There it is! It's riding straight for the camp!”

  I demanded the shield-bearers make way and let their captain come out in front. The rows of huge orcs obediently made way, and I finally saw the cause of all this fear with my own eyes.

  Well, well! Our morning guest really did make an impression. His appearance was mortifying. It was a huge dark rider astride a giant black stallion. The face of the rider was not visible because he had a hood thrown over it. All I could see under the black ovular gap was two bright-red eyes. The body, clothes and even horse were seemingly formed of tufts of thick black cloud, so I was not even sure they were material. What was more, the horse was not a separate creature, more like an inseparable addition to the rider, a part of his terrifying look.

  Dark Rider

  Emissary of the Dark Sovereign

  There wasn't very much to be gleaned from the description. The fact that before me was a rider, and a dark one at that, I had already noticed. But now, I could also see a black-skull marker on the mini-map, signifying that he was more than 50 levels higher than me. But that was hardly surprising in such a wild, remote place. Although an emissary, if you think about it, is something like a messenger, a representative. But then who was this Dark Sovereign? I had never heard of this melodramatically named character before. Our morning visitor stopped one hundred meters from the barricade and froze motionless, as if awaiting a representative from our side.

  What could I say? I'd be getting answers to all my questions right now. I ordered my warriors to remain in place, called Fimbulthul over and, gracefully jumping on the Mythical Hound's back, steered him forward. When I was just ten steps away, the emissary raised his hand in warning, commanding me to stop. Not looking for trouble, I came to a halt.

  “Hey! Are you from the Global Modeling Department? Or a tester from the Special Projects Department?” I tried addressing the stranger like a living player, because he really reminded me of the glowing angel Keeper, just his complete antipode. Clearly, both of these creatures had been made by the very same Boundless Realm artists and programmers.

  The Dark Rider ignored my question, just as any NPC should when discussing things beyond the bounds of their virtual world. It was clear that this was just a program, not a living player. Then I called him by name and asked why he was near my camp. The Dark Rider's voice was hoarse and howling, like that of a ghost:

  “You have crossed into my master's holdings. You have also killed the lord of these swamps, a loyal vassal of my sovereign. It may have been out of ignorance, so I have come to warn you that it is forbidden for anything alive or dead to travel up the river of death. You and your army must leave this place at once!”

  Woah! This was the first time I had heard of such a rule. Antonius Just hadn't mentioned any Dark Sovereign or the borders of his lands. Also, my sister Valerianna had scrupulously studied all available materials on the previous missions up the Styx, and not encountered anything like this. In any case, I had an unexpected problem before me.

  “How much time do we have to think? And what will happen if we do not obey?” I asked the ghastly rider.

  “There's nothing to think about. Go back to where you came from or be destroyed! You have until sundown to tear down your camp but, by nightfall, neither your camp nor your ship shall remain! And just so you understand the serious nature of my words and pack up your tents quickly, here's a clear example of punishment for impudence and disobedience!” With these words, the Dark Rider threw up the sides of his cloak of black clouds and pulled a bow from under his clothing, whic
h was also seemingly made of black cloud.

  That made me seriously afraid, because my respawn point was devil-knows-where, and coming back to the river camp would take me a few hours at least. I even feverishly activated my vampiric ability Undead Apathy, although I strongly doubted that the emissary of the Dark Sovereign counted as a restless dead. I do not know if my ability helped in this situation or not, but the Dark Rider shot not at me, but my mount.

  Fimbulthul gave a short howl of pain and collapsed on his side, no longer breathing. I barely managed to jump off my shaggy hound before his hefty body came down on top of me.

  Riding skill increased to level 21!

  Acrobatics skill increased to level 20!

  You may now choose your first specialization in this skill

  Then, after somersaulting off and jumping to my feet, I grabbed my Throwing Net. But the Dark Rider had already turned his huge mount around and was spurring him on. Completely silent, without the clopping of hooves, champing of mud or any other sounds, the black stallion dashed a few steps and dissolved in thin air together with his ghastly rider, like a wisp of cloud.

  “What a beast!” I was planning to keep swearing with even more rage, and really let it out, but I froze.

  The flesh of the dead hound was decaying right before my eyes, leaving behind white bones and revealing an evil predatory whirlwind swirling inside his chest cavity. What the hell was this?! It very much resembled the most dangerous creature I had ever seen... Already realizing the answer, I raised my hands in warning and shouted out to the orcs and Gray Pack, who were rushing out to help me, not to come near. The wolves and my soldiers obediently froze fifty steps from me, and just in the nick of time. I finally managed to read the information on the flesh-eating whirlwind, and my very worst guesses were confirmed:

  Midnight Wraith

  Level unknown

  The very last thing I needed! I finally had identified the mortifying creature that had devoured the flesh of my mount and the arrow, immediately remembering how I knew the name Dark Rider. Once upon a time, I had a fragment of a Dark Rider arrow, which the Keeper had paid me generously for, respawning my NPC Goblins and making Yunna and Irek immortal. But as there was such a creature before me again, I already knew the way to fight it. I would have to try to minimize the level of its opponent, because the insidious dark monster was always twice as strong as its highest-level enemy.

  “No one come near! There's guaranteed death here! This battle is for me alone!” I reminded my subjects. I also gave a separate command to the level-110 Baron to go to the opposite end of the camp and stay there. After that, I started thinking hard.

  Now, the Midnight Wraith would theoretically be level one hundred and two because the only character nearby was my level-51 Goblin Herbalist. At level one hundred, the beast was immaterial and probably extremely hard to damage with melee weapons, perhaps even having complete immunity to physical attacks. My character didn't have any magic at all, but I needed to handle it myself, and very soon, before the terrible monster ate up the rest of Fimbulthul and left to cause mischief in the surrounding area. If the Midnight Wraith moved toward the barricades with the orcs, it would cause some tragedies there. The orcs would be incapable of doing any harm to the immaterial ghost, and he would take a bloody harvest from the inhabitants of my camp.

  Last time, I had just passively stayed aside, making use of my defensive ability Undead Apathy, then set my Royal Forest Wyvern against the Midnight Wraith, having used a special poison to lower VIXEN's level to one. I had such a poison with me now. In fact, it was even stronger due to my improved Alchemy abilities, and could lower a victim's level by a whole 28 for forty seconds. But there was just one hitch. VIXEN had reached level-43 since then, and, even with the poison, would be level 15, giving her no chance to fight against an enemy twice her level. Using this poison directly on me was practically useless. After all, my Goblin Herbalist had an 80% resistance to poison. There was a very high probability the negative effect wouldn’t work, if I drank the vial of poison, or that the poison's effect would be greatly reduced. Damn! Now here was a stupid situation, suffering from my own high resistances...

  I saw the orc Shaman Ghuu Gel All-Knowing in the crowd gathering in the distance and shouted out to ask if he could curse me to temporarily reduce my resistance to poisons. I had to repeat the question two times, because Ghuu didn't believe he had heard his captain properly. I assured the shaman that he had understood everything right, and I needed it for the fight with the ghastly undead.

  Successful check for Ghuu Gel All-Knowing's reaction!

  Check for Ghuu Gel All-Knowing's reaction failed!

  LOGICAL ERROR! Mutually exclusive actions

  NPC $FF0270-CC0083 is attempting to commit an act of aggression against an ally based on high opinion of that ally

  Error code #LOC/ER-007941

  This message has been sent to Boundless Realm tech support

  We apologize for the possible inconvenience

  SYSTEM ERROR!

  Opinion variable of NPC $FF0270-СС0083 undefined

  Error code #LOC/ER-040056

  This message has been sent to Boundless Realm tech support

  We apologize for the possible inconvenience

  CRITICAL ERROR!

  The Boundless Realm game client will now be restarted

  We apologize for the possible inconvenience

  The world around me started to fade. A black screen appeared, with lines of technical commands running past. I mean, god damn! All I had done is made a friendly request for the shaman to curse me... Around a minute passed before the image lit up again.

  So, what was the result? The Midnight Wraith had already eaten the last remnants of the huge hound. The orc shaman then confirmed that he could curse me and was ready to do it. Then, without delay, he started doing a strange jerky dance with howling and epileptic convulsions. In any case, I sent the Gray Pack further from the shaman, so the wolves wouldn't throw themselves on the man for attacking their master.

  Animal Control skill increased to level 32!

  Finally, the shaman finished chanting and dancing and shouted out something strange that sounded like swearing, pointing his crooked staff in my direction.

  Death Magic resistance check failed

  Critical fail in Intelligence check!

  ATTENTION!!! A fearsome curse has been placed on you. For the next two days, you will not be able to use any weaponry in your left hand, your character's movement speed will be reduced by 42%, your resistance to poison is reduced by 53%, damage taken from all kinds of attacks is increased by 200%, and experience gain is reduced by 77%.

  Aw, fu...! Just damn it. Now this is what it looked like to be whole-heartedly cursed by someone giving their all for their beloved captain. It can't seriously be impossible to limit this to only reducing my defense against poison, right?! But I'd deal with that later. The most important thing now was taking down this dead creature. I took a vial of poison from my bag. The chance of successful poisoning was 73%, which was still no guarantee.

  It worked! My Goblin Herbalist fell to level... one??? But why not to twenty-three as I was assuming? What was more, my leather pants, cuirass, helm and other equipment instantly fell off me due to their level requirements. In fact, I was left in nothing but my initial “diaper,” a couple of rings and the cursed amulet and gloves from Fenrir’s Regalia. My big-eared Goblin probably looked funny, and my audience would like it, but I'd have to think about that later. The main thing was that the Midnight Wraith had transformed from a dark immaterial whirlwind into a ghastly half-meter-long worm . I just stomped it with my foot.

  Experience received: 1 Exp.

  Hrmph, I'll be direct: not much for killing a beast that could have easily destroyed my whole military camp. Pulling the black arrow, covered in inky goo, from Fimbulthul's body and trying not to touch it with any uncovered boy part, I rolled the dangerous trophy up in a rag and put it into my inventory.


  I waited for the effects of the poison to roll back, got dressed and spent a little while just standing in worry that the Keeper might appear and demand I give him the dangerous item, but nothing happened. Based on that, the big update was no longer so far beyond the horizon, as the Global Modeling Department decided to let me keep the trophy.

  I returned to my orcs and, first of all, walked up to the very nervous shaman. Ghuu was clearly not yet sure that he had done the right thing by putting the curse on me, but I gave the young shaman a comforting slap on the shoulder and assured him that I wasn't offended. At the same time, I gave him the items from the Orc Infirmary quest.

  Mission completed: Orc Infirmary

  Reward: 920 Exp.

  Alchemy skill increased to level 29!

  Warchief skill increased to level 4!

  Foreman skill increased to level 46!

  The shaman assured me that he would immediately give the medicine to the wounded and, right after that, our group would be able to pack up our tents and head off wherever their captain desired. I answered the shaman and my first mate standing next to him that I would tell them where to go, then went to the dwarf tent and gave an elixir of regeneration to the crippled chef. I waved off the words of gratitude that followed, saying the chef had earned this potion with his bravery in battle.